passerby
by WinglessSeraphim
Summary: Some things never change. .roxiné.


passerby

rating: T

genre: general

summary: some things never change.

**All standard disclaimers apply.**

* * *

_one_

In Twilight Town, some things never change.

The sky is forever trapped in an array of yellows, reds, and oranges. The train tracks continue into the distance, carrying with them the same untold stories of the then and now. The clock tower, prominent, heaven-bound, and ever vigilant, brings awe to those who have yet to seen it ever since the day of its completion.

And the one silent boy that sits at the entrance of the bustling train station, without a single care in the world, listens. He listens and watches anything and everything. Naminé wonders why no-one says a word as they go by.

Everyday, as she follows the large monotonous crowd around her, Naminé can't help but notice those blue eyes transfixed steadily on the horizon.

* * *

_two_

Step, step, step. Left, right, left. One, two, three. She takes the same pathway to and from ever since can remember. Naminé knows that it has been imbued into her being; thus it is a part of her, like her quiet tendencies.

She once again finds herself at the brooding boy's spot. However, something has changed. He's there with imploring arms reaching out (reaching, reaching, forever reaching) flying over the stone balcony, knocking at Death's door.

Then, it's all just mingled breaths, reflecting blue depths, hands that touch more than the physical and an assurance of that this place and time is their crossroads; theirs alone.

Upon the sunlit ground is a photograph.

The train horn bellows in the distance.

* * *

_three_

She finds him, once again and always, splayed out on the jagged steps of the train station. This time, however, she comes bearing a small gift.

She places herself by his seemingly inert body watching those sullen orbs turn to gaze at her. Naminé gives him the shyest and smallest of smiles before offering him her gift.

She watches in delight as the tiniest ray of light enters his eyes at the sight of the ice cream bar.

He takes it, their fingers brushing the others, sits up and mutters the smallest thanks.

Together, they taste the sweetness and salts of the sea.

* * *

_four_

She places brush to paper, bringing forth little details that only she notices.

The way his eye gleam when in deep though, how his eyes close half-way when there's a light breeze, and (when he believes she isn't watching) the way his fingertips trace the faces on the picture in his pocket.

It's all these little tendencies and more that she has committed to memory, like a wise saying. And she brings them to life once again through her art so that she can once again look upon them and remember.

As she completes the sixth sketch of the day, she proudly shows it to him, holding it up with acrylic stained fingers.

Naminé cannot help but laugh as he shows silent awe at the way she has depicted him. But to her it isn't a surprise at all.

For it was how she viewed him everyday.

* * *

_five_

Accidents happen.

Confusion, misplaced steps, and nimble fingers are all it takes. In a tangled heap, they fall to the ground, breathing erratic, warmth against warmth, never wanting to get up again.

But as two pairs of lips come together, trading unspoken passions, Naminé wonders if it truly was an accident or if it's simply how things were meant to be.

* * *

_six_

Face to face, she immediately feels those same warm lips pressing against her, searching for that spark they discovered together and called their own.

She doesn't deny his want, but at the same time, she cannot help but feel his pain.

_

* * *

_

_seven_

She comes, running, to where it all first began. Her steps become faster and lighter, faster and lighter, faster and lighter until…

It's empty. The space is barren. All that remains on the dusty bricks is a photograph of four familiar smiling faces…

Including his.

-------

Green (golden, and sangria) eyes scan the photo trying to remember, trying so hard to drudge out a memory, but fail. With great gentleness, Olette gives the keepsake back to trembling hands.

"I'm sorry Naminé, but we've never seen this person before; never."

-------

She watches and listens for anything and everything. The tears streaming down her face don't cease as she sits on her bed, her eyes transfixed upon the horizon.

And as one lonesome girl succumbs to her dreams, in the midst of them realizes the truth.

Some things never change.

(_The bells of the clock resound twelve times and the image of a blue-eyed blonde boy is forgotten over time.)_

End

* * *

**I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did.**

**Until next time, **

**WinglessSeraphim**


End file.
